Latter Days

Author: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-15

Disclaimer: I don’t own most of these characters, and I don’t make money off the ones I do. So there.

Summary: Set post-Chosen. After the Slayers are activated, the balance between good and evil is disturbed, and the Scoobies are flung to the far corners of the world to respond to the crisis. In the midst of all of this, will they be able to keep their relationships strong? Or will they be divided by circumstances and torn apart by fate? Follows my short story Yesterday.

A/N: Remember how things went after Chosen? Well, forget about all of that, and ignore the comics. This is my version. This series is comprised of Latter Days, Faithfully Dangerous, and Now and Always, and the entire series will be known by the third title. You’ll see why. (And although some of the locations mentioned in this fic exist, this is my world, which means that I’m twisting reality to my own ends.)

“What a beautiful piece of heartache/This has all turned out to be/Lord knows we've learned the hard way/All about healthy apathy…There is a me you would not recognize, dear/Call it the shadow of myself/And if the music starts before I get there/Dance without me, you dance so gracefully/I really think I'll be okay/They've taken a toll, these latter days/Nothing like sleeping on a bed of nails/Nothing much here but our broken dream/Oh, but baby, if all else fails/Nothing is ever quite what it seems…” ~Over the Rhine, “Latter Days”

Prologue

Jerry Van Peldt had been in the disaster relief business for years now. He’d caught the bug at nineteen, as a volunteer EMT working with the Red Cross. Since then, he’d seen floods, fires, earthquakes, a couple of war zones, and even a terrorist attack or two.

He’d never seen anything like the Sunnydale crater, however. Or “the Crater” as they were all calling it. No one had ever seen anything quite like it, and they had all braced for the worst, ready to find hundreds of bodies buried in the ash and rubble.

So far he’d found a grand total of three, and he’d been working the site for four weeks now.

Jerry had heard through the grapevine that they were planning on shutting the recovery operation down soon. There was no point on wasting resources when there were no bodies to find, and very little in the way of artifacts. The word on the street—or in the Crater—was that the good people of Sunnydale had known that something bad was coming and had skedaddled with everything and anything they could carry.

Until they gave the word, however, Jerry would be working. He had a list of family heirlooms and other articles that people had requested to have returned should the disaster workers find them.

That was the best thing about his job—returning something precious to the person who had lost it. Sometimes it was a body, and the ability to lay their worry to rest, other times it was a live pet, or another item that couldn’t be replaced with money.

“Hey, Jerry!”

Jerry sighed. He knew that voice all too well. The only reason he was able to maintain his patience with Stuart is because he remembered his own enthusiasm for the job when he’d just been starting out. Still, the young man was trying at best. “What is it, Stu?”

“Is this on the list?”

The poor kid had been trying for days to find something—anything—of any value at all in the Crater, only to be told each time that it was nothing but junk. This time, however, Jerry recognized the amulet from its description on the lost and found list. Someone was very interested in getting the thing back, given that instructions had been given to every worker there that they were to keep a sharp eye out for it.

The amulet itself was blackened with soot and grime, and it looked as though it had been battered almost to oblivion. Still, someone wanted it, and that was good enough for Jerry. “Yeah, it’s on the list, kid.”

Stuart’s face creased with a big, goofy grin. “Great! I didn’t think I’d find anything before we got the word that the site was being closed.”

“You know when that’s going to be?”

“A couple of weeks at the most,” Stuart replied. He was well known for being something of a gossipmonger, and often had information before anyone else did. “I heard some of the bosses talking. They said it was really weird that nearly everybody got out in time, and that there’s no reason to stay when there aren’t any bodies to recover.”

Jerry didn’t know if he bought that. It was likely that there were still bodies remaining in the rubble, but there was only so much they could do. It was probably time to pack it in. “Yeah, I can see that,” was all he said. “I’ll send this off to the owners.”

“Cool,” Stuart replied. “Thanks, Jerry!”

Jerry sighed, beginning to flip through the list of people who had put in requests for items that might be found. He wished he still had that kind of energy.

The pages of the notebook seemed to flip almost of their own accord, and he saw the name he’d been looking for. “Willow Rosenberg,” Jerry murmured. “Rio de Janeiro. Lucky girl. I wonder how she managed that.”

It didn’t take long to fill out the necessary paperwork, address the padded envelope, and put it in the mail truck to be sent out the next day.

At no point did Jerry wonder about his compulsion to get it in the mail immediately, nor did he question how easy it was to get through the paperwork. Normally, a request like that took weeks to process; this one took hours.

Then again, Jerry didn’t really believe in magic, so maybe that was for the best.

Chapter 1: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

“…it’s been hot here, but I guess that’s only to be expected. Kennedy and I are still trying to track down the Slayers in the area. We’ve had some problems finding them, but I guess we knew that might happen. I’ll let you know when we’ve had more luck…” ~Excerpt from an email from Willow Rosenberg to Buffy Summers

“Kennedy, did you get the mail?” Willow called without looking up from the spell book. She’d been studying almost non-stop since leaving Sunnydale, trying to find out exactly what she’d unleashed by activating all the potential Slayers. No one knew what the consequences might be, but she was certain that they would not be pleasant.

She hadn’t known that resurrecting Buffy would allow the First Evil to nearly extinguish the Slayer line and end the world, but unlike that spell, Willow knew that they hadn’t had a choice this time.

When her girlfriend didn’t respond, Willow sighed. Kennedy frequently commented on how much time Willow spend with the books these days, rather than with her. She had tried to explain to her that this was how the downtime worked for her, as a witch. During an apocalypse, she was generally involved in the action, but afterwards she wanted to be prepared for the next big event, which she had no doubt was coming.

“Kennedy?” Willow did a quick sweep of the apartment, realizing that her girlfriend had gone out without letting her know. Grumbling a bit, she went out to get the mail.

There wasn’t much there—a catalog for a magic supply store that she’d requested, a bill, and a small, padded envelope. She hadn’t expected much, since she communicated with the others online or on the phone for the most part.

She put the catalog on her desk and made a mental note to flip through it later; there were a few items that she was running out of and would need soon. She opened and filed the bill to be paid later, and then she opened the package.

Willow recognized the amulet immediately. She’d put a lot of work into making sure that if it was found it would get back to her, rather than landing in the wrong hands. There was no telling whether any power remained in it, or if it could be used again. They still didn’t know how it had worked in the first place, and she was more than a little curious. If they ever needed something like it again, she wanted to be able to duplicate its powers, preferably without burning up the wearer.

One of the metal prongs holding the stone was loose, and another had been torn away completely, leaving a sharp edge that sliced her finger. Willow yelped and dropped the amulet to the floor.

Before she could bend to pick it up, it began spinning, then levitating. She cast the shielding spell automatically for her own protection, watching it steadily with a heady mixture of fascination and fear.

The spinning amulet created a vortex, and there came a howl that quickly increased in volume. She could have sworn that she recognized the voice, but— “It’s impossible,” she muttered.

The impossible had become commonplace, it seemed, because her initial supposition was correct; where there had only been a spinning amulet a moment before, now Spike crouched in the middle of her living room—naked and trembling.

Kennedy came bursting through the front door a split second later, letting the late afternoon sun blaze across the floor and Spike’s bare skin, causing him to cry out and scramble away. The Slayer had a stake in hand and looked ready to use it. Willow didn’t know if she just hadn’t recognized Spike, or if she didn’t care, but she acted swiftly. With one gesture, she froze Kennedy in place, and with another she slammed the front door shut.

She then snagged the blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over him. “I’m sorry!” she said quickly. “I’m really, really sorry. I had no idea you were going to come out of that thing.”

Spike blinked, staring at her. “Red?”

“That’s right. It’s okay, I promise. It’s just—crazy.” That was an understatement. To think she’d been getting a little bored recently. “Here. Sit down.” Willow nudged him towards the couch, thankful that Spike seemed aware enough to wrap the blanket fully around him.

“What’s Kennedy doin’?” he asked, sounding a little bewildered.

Willow placed herself between the Slayer and her unexpected guest. “She was trying to stake you. Hang on while I take care of this.” She spoke the word to release her girlfriend, ready to cast the same spell again if it looked Kennedy made another attempt.

“What did you just do?” Kennedy demanded as soon as she could move. “And what is he doing here?”

“I made sure you couldn’t stake him,” Willow replied, maintaining her calm with some effort. “And Spike’s here because the amulet spit him out.”

“He’s evil.”

Willow was fairly certain that he wasn’t. She’d known Spike back when he was evil, and he wasn’t acting like that at all. “I don’t think he is.”

“Then what is he doing back?” Kennedy demanded. “He’s supposed to be dead. What if he’s the First Evil?”

There was only one way to be certain of that, and Willow put her hand on his bare shoulder to prove both that he wasn’t dead—or dead-er—and that he wasn’t the First. “He’s corporeal, Ken. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she snapped. “We’re supposed to be fighting vampires, not babysitting them again.” With that, she whirled and stomped out of their apartment.

Willow knew that her anger had as much to do with the fact that she had used magic against her, as it did with Spike sitting on their couch. Kennedy might be able to accept magic as a tool for fighting evil, but she didn’t like it.

She sat down next to Spike rather gingerly. “Are you okay?”

“Where’s Buffy?” he asked urgently. “Did she make it out?”

“She’s fine,” Willow soothed. “She’s in England.”

“England?” Spike echoed, looking around him, alarmed. “Wait. Where are we? An’ how did I get here? I’m not—I was dead, wasn’t I? Is this—”

“We’re in Brazil.” Willow interrupted him before he could become even more panicked. “In Rio, to be precise. Kennedy and I are trying to locate Slayers in the area. You know that the activation spell worked, right?”

The question seemed to settle him, and he nodded. “Yeah. I remember that.”

“Okay, good.” Willow gave a sigh of relief. “Kennedy and I came to Brazil, to South America. Faith and Robin stayed in the U.S. Buffy went with Giles to England, and Xander went to Africa.”

Spike frowned. “You’re missin’ a couple of continents.”

Willow smiled, realizing with relief that whatever the amulet had done to him, he still had all his faculties. “Giles knew of a couple of Watchers who escaped the destruction of Council headquarters. One of them is from Australia, and she’s taking a couple Slayers with her; another spent a lot of time in Southeast Asia, and he’s meeting one of the Slayers who survived the Bringers.”

“How many Slayers did we lose in the crater?” Spike asked.

“About a half dozen.” She sighed. “We lost Amanda and Chao-Ahn, and a few others.” She paused. “And we lost Anya.”

Willow could see him swallow hard. “Anya, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, shaking off her concern. “S’pose that covers the bases,” he allowed, then looked down. “Think I could get some clothes?”

She flushed. “Yes! Well, no, actually—” Willow stopped and took a deep breath; she was still flustered by his unexpected appearance, not to mention his lack of clothing. Kennedy’s departure wasn’t a surprise, so that didn’t bother her much. “All the clothing we have was what we bought since Sunnydale,” she said. “So we probably don’t have anything that will fit.”

Spike looked uncomfortable. “Right.”

“I have a robe,” she offered. “It’s purple.”

He let out a deeply put-upon sigh. “Better that than nothing.”

“I can run out and get something for you,” she said. “You’re going to need blood soon anyway, right?”

“I could eat.” Spike frowned. “How long has it been?”

“Six weeks, give or take a few days.” She stood abruptly. “I’ll pick up a few things for you, and then we can call Buffy.”

His eyes were shadowed. “Yeah. Probably better do that.”

Willow guessed at the reason for his obvious reluctance; Buffy had said that she’d waited too long to tell him how she felt. “She’s been mourning you, Spike.” She didn’t wait for his reply. “I’ll grab that robe, and then the rest of the stuff. Are you going to be okay here by yourself?”

“I’m a big vamp, Red,” Spike replied, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She nodded. “If Kennedy comes back—”

“I’ll defend myself, and I’ll try not to hurt her.”

That was all she could ask.

~~~~~

As far as Spike knew, he’d been in the Hellmouth mere moments before ending up in Willow’s living room. It was one reason that he was having trouble processing what was going on. Clearly, whatever had created the amulet had meant for the user to be trapped inside, but to what purpose, Spike couldn’t say.

The idea that he could have wound up almost anywhere, depending on who had obtained the amulet, was a frightening one. He’d been completely disoriented and vulnerable for the first few moments after being disgorged.

Hell, he was still vulnerable; Spike wanted his duster back, but he had a feeling that unlike the rest of him, his clothing had been burned away by the amulet’s energy.

So, here he was in South America again, in Willow’s living room, wearing a fuzzy purple bathrobe. He wasn’t sure how his life could get much worse.

The front door opened with a bang and he stood to face Kennedy as she entered. She looked him up and down, clearly unimpressed by his attire. “Are you still here?”

He waved at the sunlight filtering through the open door; Spike made sure that he was well out of danger this time. “It’s still a bit too bright out there for me.”

“You know, a lot of good people died in the Hellmouth,” Kennedy said.

“Yeah.”

“You should have stayed that way.”

“Probably.” Spike wasn’t about to argue with her. She was looking for a fight, and he didn’t want to give her one. The chance of one of them getting hurt or killed was too great.

She snorted with disgust. “I’m going to get my stuff.”

Spike thought about asking her where she was planning to go, but decided that he didn’t care. He sat back down on the couch, watching as she went from room to room with a duffel bag, shoving various items inside.

Kennedy paused at the front door. “Tell Willow I’ll call her later.”

Spike leaned back into the couch cushions, a little more relaxed now that she was gone and hadn’t tried to stake him. He rubbed his eyes wearily. Whatever Willow said, he had a hard time believing that Buffy’s words had been real, that it was real love, and he didn’t want her trying to fake it because she felt trapped with his return.

The door opened slowly. “Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Did Kennedy come back?” the witch asked, slipping inside with several sacks.

“Came and went. Said I should have stayed dead.”

She frowned, looking severe. “Well, she was wrong.”

“She said she’d call later.”

Willow sighed. “Yeah, I figured she would. We’re going to break up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She smiled a little sadly. “It’s been a long time coming.” Willow put one of the bags into his lap. “I hope they fit. I’ll heat up your blood.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he objected.

She shook her head. “You died to save the world, Spike. I think I can do that much at least.”

Those words shook him, and he wondered at the sentiment. His death seemed to have won his acceptance by Buffy’s friends; perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still felt wrong. Spike had worn the amulet; that was all. He hadn’t fought a great battle, or defeated a demonic army—not really.

There was a saying about gift horses that he was reminded of, however, and so he got dressed and tried to put it out of his mind. The clothes were a little bigger than he tended to favor, but Willow had picked up a belt, so he didn’t have to worry about his pants ending up around his ankles. She’d also gone for black again, which he appreciated. She’d even found a pair of boots in his size.

“You’re looking pretty good for a dead guy,” she said, handing him a warm mug. “I got more if you’re still hungry.”

“Ta.” He took a sip and watched as Willow picked up the phone and hit speed dial, then braced himself for the worst.

Willow winced as Giles’ voice came on the line—Spike had no trouble hearing both sides of the conversation. “Willow? Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly,” she replied. “I need to talk to Buffy, Giles.”

“Do you know what time it is?” he asked. “She’s in bed, and it’s been a long week for her. We’ve had—”

“I know that.” She cut him off. “But it’s really important. I wouldn’t have called otherwise.”

There was a pause that Spike could feel in his bones, then the Watcher sighed. “Just a moment.” Another long silence followed, and he gulped the rest of his blood nervously, going over to rinse it out in the sink. When he turned the water off, he could hear Buffy’s voice on the line.

“What is it, Will?”

“I received the amulet from the Sunnydale disaster relief team,” she said, clearly trying to ease Buffy into it. The other girl said nothing right away, and Willow continued. “It—Spike’s here, Buffy.”

“You’re lying. You have to be.” Her tone was flat, and Spike wondered at her reaction. Did she not want it to be true, or did it seem too good to be true?

“I’m not,” Willow assured her. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Buffy. You know I wouldn’t.” She held the phone out to Spike. “Here. Talk to her.”

Spike swallowed, taking the phone as though it would bite him at any moment. “Buffy?”

“Spike?”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“It can’t be.” She muttered the words, as though talking to herself. “You died. I watched you start to burn. You—”

“I told you that you didn’t love me.” Spike knew Buffy well enough to know that she wouldn’t have told anyone about what she’d said at the end, or his reply. “An’ I thanked you for sayin’ it anyway.”

“Oh, God. Spike.”

She was crying; he could hear her tears, and there was nothing he could do except to clutch the phone more tightly and wish he were there with her. “Luv—”

“I meant it,” she insisted, before he could say anything. “I know I waited too long to say it, but I meant it. How soon—no, I can come there. Are you okay? What happened? Willow said she got the amulet; did that—”

Spike wished that he could cut her off with a kiss; a reunion like this shouldn’t happen over the phone. “Dunno what Red did to get me out of it, but I think I was in the amulet. One minute I’m burnin’ up from the inside out, an’ the next minute I’m in her living room.”

“But are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Bit shaken up, but I’m alright. You?”

“I’m good. Now.”

There was a pause, and Spike just listened to her breathing on the other end. He didn’t know what to say to her after everything that had happened. “You want to talk to Red?”

“Not really, but…” She sighed. “I have so much to tell you, but I think it can wait until I see you in person. I’ll talk to Giles. I’m not sure if it would be easier for you to come here, or me to go there.”

“Whatever you need from me, Buffy,” he promised, then added in a low tone, wishing he didn’t have an audience, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

When he handed the phone back to Willow, he felt almost as though he was floating. Buffy had meant those words she’d spoken in the Hellmouth; it hadn’t been a sop to a dying man. Spike only half-listened to the rest of the conversation as Willow finished the conversation with Buffy, then spoke to Giles again. She gave both of them the details of the afternoon, including Kennedy’s reaction and departure.

Spike couldn’t think of anything except for seeing Buffy again. He wasn’t sure he would have contacted her immediately had Willow not insisted, but he was now glad that she had.

~~~~~

Willow looked at the vampire on her couch; he was flipping channels idly, and she wondered whether now would be the time to ask for his help. They had just recently figured out that one of the new Slayers was a street kid, and although her strength and healing would certainly help her survive, Willow knew that time was against them.

It wouldn’t even have to be a demon that took her out; it could be a human.

“Spit it out, Red.”

She started, not having realized that he knew she was standing there, or that she’d been wanting to say something. “We have a problem, Spike.”

He glanced up at her, then turned the television off. “Alright. What is it?”

“We activated all those Slayers, but we’re having a hard time finding them,” she admitted. “It’s easier in some areas, but it’s been an issue here.”

“How’s that?”

“One girl was already married, and she didn’t want to leave her husband. Another died before we could get to her; we’re still not sure what happened there. A third is in a remote area, and we haven’t been able to get to her yet.” Willow shook her head. “The coven is estimating that there are as many as two thousand active Slayers, Spike. We don’t have the resources to train all of them.”

His eyes were wary. “I’m not sure what that has to do with me.”

“You’re better qualified than most of us to train Slayers.” Her words were deliberately blunt. Willow knew that if Spike believed that he was needed, he’d be more willing to help.

Spike shook his head. “Training the potentials on the Hellmouth was a one-time deal, Red. I’m not the guy you need.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “Because you’re a vampire? We both know that’s a load of bullshit. As far as I’m concerned, that makes you more qualified.”

He seemed taken aback by her vehemence. “Red—”

“You won’t hold back with them,” she pressed. “And your soul is anchored. There’s no good reason for it not to work.”

A scarred eyebrow rose. “Really? I think Rupert might have somethin’ to say about it. He’s not my biggest fan.”

She snorted. “Please. It’s a little hard for Giles to disapprove of somebody who willingly sacrificed himself.”

Willow knew she was winning when he slowly nodded. “S’pose so. What do you want me to do?”

“We managed to track down another Slayer here in Rio,” Willow explained. “The problem is that she’s a street kid, and Kennedy and I don’t speak Portuguese. If the circumstances were different, I’d just get an interpreter, but I think it would be easier if you came along.”

Spike’s expression was incredulous. “What makes you think I speak Portuguese?”

“Just a hunch. Can you?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Yeah, but I’m not fluent.”

“Well enough to get our point across?”

He was still hesitant, and Willow wondered why. Was it because he didn’t trust her, or did he suspect some sort of ulterior motive? She thought he understood that everything had changed; the world had been turned upside down while he had been locked away in that amulet. Before, there had been Watchers a-plenty and a dearth of Slayers. Now, they had the opposite problem, and it was becoming dire.

Willow’s greatest fear was that girls would die because of the spell she’d cast, that they wouldn’t get to the Slayers in time.

The potentials had been targets, and so would the Slayers be now.

Spike seemed to make his mind up suddenly, nodding and rising from the couch. “Yeah. I can do it. You know how to find her?”

Willow went to the chest of drawers she kept in the living room. The many small compartments were ideal for storing necessary magic supplies. She took the crystal the coven had finally perfected from one of them, holding it up. It pulsed with a faint light. “The coven has been working on locator crystals. They’re only good for close range, but once you get within ten miles or so, they’re great to have.”

He shrugged. “As long as you have what it takes. I’ll let you lead the way.”

~~~~~

Kennedy still hadn’t returned to the apartment by the time the sun had gone down, and Willow decided that it wasn’t necessary to wait for her. If her girlfriend wanted to throw a hissy fit, that wasn’t her problem.

Willow still had no idea what Kennedy’s problem with Spike was; he’d proven himself ten times over at this point.

The crystal was easy to use, but it didn’t give the best directions; the light grew brighter when they were going in the right direction, but it didn’t give any indication of what the right direction was. They wasted a lot of time wandering around, getting closer only by trial and error.

“This isn’t good, Red,” Spike muttered as they moved deeper into one of the areas of the city where she would have hesitated to go alone. She might be a powerful witch, but it was always safer to have someone there to watch your back.

“Tell me about it.” The crystal was glowing steadily now, more brightly with every step. It was the only reason she didn’t suggest turning around.

He shook his head. “No, I know this area. It’s controlled by one of the demon clans that live around here.”

“If they see us?”

“Let’s hope they don’t.”

“Why would a new Slayer be here?” Willow asked.

The planes of Spike’s face were sharp in the light from the crystal, sharper than usual. It caused his expression to look grimmer. “Not for a good reason.” Suddenly, they were plunged into darkness, and they both stopped, freezing. “What just happened?”

Willow swallowed. “She’s no longer in the area.”

“How could she disappear like that?”

“I don’t think she did.” Willow looked at him, feeling sick to her stomach. “I think she might have been killed. It’s the only reason I can think of that the crystal would go dark so suddenly.”

“Bloody hell.” He glanced around. “Find a hiding place for yourself, Red. I’m goin’ to look.”

“Be careful,” she whispered before she spoke the words that would make it a lot harder for anyone to see her. Spike would be able to find her, because he knew where to look, but the casual passer-by wouldn’t.

The seconds passed like hours while Willow fretted, wondering if she should have done something—if she could have done something. They had known about the girl for two days, and the crystal had only arrived the day before. She and Kennedy had looked, but they hadn’t been able to get close.

Maybe they would have managed it, however, if they had only…

What?

“Let’s go.” Spike materialized beside her in the darkness.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“I’ll tell you when we’re out of here.”

They both moved as quietly as possible, and Willow tucked the now-dark crystal in her pocket. Spike led her unerringly through the streets and back to the front door of her flat. “What happened?” she repeated, as soon as they were inside.

“She’s dead, like you thought.”

“How do you know?” Willow demanded. “Did you see her?”

“Could smell her.” Spike’s voice was flat, and she had a hard time getting a read on him. “Slayer blood doesn’t smell like anything else. There’s somethin’ special about it.”

“What else did you find out?”

“Found out that there’s likely a price on every Slayer’s head. I overheard a couple of demons talkin’ over her body.”

For a moment, Willow thought about protesting the fact that he had simply left her there with the demons, but she knew that there hadn’t been much sense in revealing their location for a dead girl, even if she had been a Slayer. “What did they say?”

“Word’s out about the spell you cast. The demons know that a bunch of new girls were Chosen, an’ they know that they’re young and untrained for the most part. The ones I saw seemed to think that it was just good business to take them out now before they got trained.” Spike sighed. “Should have figured on that.”

The possibility hadn’t even crossed Willow’s mind, and she swallowed hard, thinking of all the implications. “How are we going to keep them safe?”

“We get to them first.” Spike pointed at her pocket.

She looked down, seeing the faint glow through the fabric. “Another one?”

“Guess so.” He glanced at the clock, even though she knew he probably had a very good idea of what time it was. “We’ve still got some night left to us. Might as well get started.”

Willow nodded and hoped that they reached this Slayer in time.

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